


Moving On (And Blowing Over)

by megabeccaw



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megabeccaw/pseuds/megabeccaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the hurricane, Alex has a major fear of storms. He relies on his friends to help him work through the resulting panic attacks, but they don't even know about the hurricane. This is five times he didn't want to talk about it and one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was my friend Reganne's idea, so thanks Reganne, I hope I do it justice!!

Hercules was just about finished with a dress for Eliza when he got the call.

“Hello?” he asked, still sewing.

“Um, Her-Hercules?” Was that…

“Alex? Are you okay? What’s the matter?” He immediately stopped sewing, already getting up to put on his shoes and grab his keys.

“Can you come over?” Alex rushed out. “I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.”

“On my way. Just hold on, okay?” Hercules quickly replied, rushing out the door before realizing he needed a jacket. It was raining pretty hard, and though Alex’s place wasn’t far, in this weather the walk would seem ten times longer. “I’ll text you when I get there, man. I gotta go.”

“Okay, bye. Thank you.” His voice was shaking, 

“No problem Alex,” Hercules ended the call, consumed with worry.

\---

_Here. Buzz me in – HM_

_Just a sec – AH_

Waiting was murder. What was going on with Alex? Was he hurt? Did someone say something about his mother or something? When he finally got to the room, he had a million questions, but his train of thought stopped dead when he saw the look in Alex’s eyes.

“Herc oh my god thank you so much for coming this is so stupid I’m sorry I shouldn’t have bothered you about-“

“Alex, it’s alright, slow down. What’s going on?” Hercules barely caught any of what he’d said. The boy could talk a mile a minute if he wasn’t careful.

“Oh. Uh well, it’s-“ This time Alex was cut off by the thunder from the storm, jumping at the noise. Eyes wide and glassy, he started folding in on himself and hyperventilating. 

Hercules didn’t really know what to do, other than guide him to the couch and sit him down, so that’s exactly what he did. Alex didn’t even seem like he was seeing him, it was terrifying.

“Alex, Alex, bud, look at me. C’mon,” He moved Alex’s head so Hercules was in his line of sight, saying “Good, you’re doing so good.” Was this a panic attack? He’d never seen someone actually having one, what if he did something wrong? Oh god.

Fuck. Didn’t Lafayette tell him something about…? Grounding, was it? Yeah. Yeah, okay, that might work.

“Alex,” they made eye contact. Okay, that’s a good start. “Do you have five things you can see?”

After a minute of Hercules watching his eyes flit around, Alex gave a weak nod.

“Good, good, what about touch? Do you have five things you can touch?”

A hand immediately shot out to grab Hercules’, surprisingly tightly. Feeling the couch, his pants, the nearest remote, and even his own hair, Alex gave another, firmer nod.

Hercules smiled a bit. “Okay, how about…” Shit, he couldn’t do sounds, he was pretty sure that was what triggered this whole thing in the first place. Maybe smells? “Can you smell five things?”

Hercules could practically see him identifying different smells as his nose worked. Finally, he gave a quiet “yes” and Hercules finally let the tension in his shoulders go.

“Okay. You’re safe Alex, I promise,” Hercules said, pulling Alex into his arms. Alex curled into him, thankful for having such a great friend.

As Alex drifted off, the rain began to let up, but Hercules saw no reason to move, eventually falling asleep himself.

\---

Hercules awoke slowly, slightly confused as to why he was… on Alex’s couch?

Oh, that’s right. He had helped Alex work through a panic attack last night. Speaking of Alex, where was he? Hercules got up, stiff from a night spent sitting up on Alex’s admittedly shitty couch.

He could hear noises in the kitchen, and he walked in to find Alex bustling around making breakfast. He paused upon noticing Hercules, asking him “Scrambled or fried?” while holding up a few eggs.

“… Scrambled,” Hercules responded, taking a seat at the counter. “Are you okay?”

Alex’s movements stuttered, but he shook it off pretty quickly. “Yeah of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Hercules could tell he was lying, but even more than that he could tell that it wasn’t the time for Alex. He’d open up when he was ready. After all, if there was one thing he was good at, it was talking.

“Just checking. So what are we having with the eggs?” Alex shot him a grateful smile at the subject change, and they slipped into easy conversation as Hercules watched Alex cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be either be Alex and Jefferson or Alex and Washington, and it'll be up in a few days!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or send me an ask on [tumblr](http://crispybaguette.tumblr.com) about how Alex doesn't deserve me making his life harder than it already is


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: oh yeah I'll put the next chapter up in a couple days!!  
> Me: *doesn't do that* oops

They had these meetings occasionally, since they worked best as a team. Washington may have had the title of President, but in reality, he couldn’t possibly lead without Hamilton at his side. The responsibility of the entire country was far too much for one man, in Washington’s opinion.

The storm started about twenty minutes in.

Hamilton stiffened slightly at the sound of the first drops hitting the window, but Washington dismissed it as his focus being broken. When the first thunderclap sounded and Hamilton practically jumped out of his seat, however, Washington could not let himself pass it off so quickly. When he did not return his attention to Washington, the President decided to address the issue.

“Hamilton? Are you alright?” Hamilton’s eyes immediately shot up to meet Washington’s, before flicking away just as quickly.

“Yeah. I mean, yes sir. Sorry, the thunder just startled me. What was I saying?” Hamilton busied himself with skimming the papers in front of him, trying to find his place again. Washington let him be, and the meeting seemed to pick back up just fine, with the storm ending so quickly that Washington had nearly forgotten it was raining at all.

\---

The next time the weather was bad during one of the meetings, it didn’t clear up until hours after. Washington, who never paid any more attention to weather than finding out if he needed an umbrella or coat before he left the house each day, could tell you the exact time it finally stopped raining that day, for only one reason: Hamilton.

The situation had an uncanny resemblance to the last time. They sat across from each other, papers spread out on the table between them, when the rain started. Hamilton, like before, stiffened, and Washington remembered the incident properly for the first time since it happened. He paid close attention to Hamilton, waiting for him to either loosen back up or totally snap out of it, like last time, or _something._

What actually happened was something the President hadn’t even considered.

This time around, the thunder was a hell of a lot louder. Instead of jumping at the noise, Hamilton stiffened even further, which Washington didn’t think was even possible, and he started to curl into himself. The thunder had barely stopped when the next bout began. This one, somehow even louder, had Hamilton shutting his eyes tight and clenching his hands as his breathing sped up.

Washington was out of his seat to Hamilton’s side before he could even register the movement. He knelt next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder in hopes that the contact might snap him out of it, but Hamilton didn’t even seem to notice.

“Hamilton? Hamilton!” Washington started to shake the boy’s shoulder before realizing that if anything, that would probably make things worse. Hamilton was clearly out of it, and being shaken would jar him even further.

Washington wasn’t sure how, but he wanted to help him. As the thunder continued, Hamilton started shaking and his hands shot to clench over his ears, and Washington _needed_ to help somehow.

He guided Hamilton off of his chair over to sit in a clear spot next to the wall. Hamilton drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. He looked so helpless; Washington wasn’t sure what to do. As Washington sat down next to him, a particularly jarring bout of thunder sounded, making Hamilton whimper, and Washington made his decision.

He drew Alexander into his arms, bracing the poor boy against his chest. Stroking Alexander’s hair as an attempt at soothing or even just distracting him, he prayed that his efforts would lend at least a little comfort. Alexander quickly started clinging to him, burying his face in George’s shirt.

“Shh. It’s okay, Alexander, you’re alright. You’re gonna get through this.” George began to softly talk to the boy, not even really paying attention to what he was saying. He wanted to take Alexander’s mind off of the noise, and it worked somewhat. Alexander’s grip loosened a bit, but George didn’t stop. He kept talking and holding the boy for the duration of the storm, not wanting to take the chance that letting go could lead to Alexander going back to the state of mind he was in earlier.

\---

When the rain finally stopped, George realized that they’d been sitting there for quite some time. Checking his watch, he had to look twice. Work had ended _two hours ago._

He ought to talk to Alexander about this. Why did the rain have such a huge effect on him? George had heard of people being afraid of thunder, but never to this extent. What happened to ensure such an intense reaction from him?

He looked down at Alexander, who – oh. Alexander was asleep. Well. He supposed he could pack up his things before waking Alexander. Lord knows that boy hadn’t slept in days. Moving Alexander carefully off of him, he got up and started to collect his things. Since the meeting had been the last thing scheduled for the day, all of his stuff was here, and so was Alexander’s.

As he put away his papers, he heard Alexander groan, and looking toward the wall, George could see that the boy was awake. He seemed a little disoriented, and George could see the moment when he regained his bearings. He tensed and moved to stand, but George put up a hand to stop him. He leaned back on the table behind him, looking critically at Alexander.

“Care to explain what happened today, son?” He could tell Alexander was figuring out what to do about an explanation, and George really hoped his decision wouldn’t make this difficult.

“Don’t call me son,” he muttered, pointedly ignoring the actual question.

“Alexander, listen, if the rain affects you that much,” Alexander looked away and got up, heading to collect his things, “then you really should tell me what’s going on. I want to help you, Alex. It can’t be healthy to keep everything bottled up like this. Now, why did the rain send you into that panic attack?”

Alexander, however, clearly didn’t want to answer. He was shoving papers in his bag, not paying any attention to what they were or if he was crumpling them. “Oh, you know, it happens. Wow, it’s getting pretty late, isn’t it? Well, I should head back home. I’ll email you the rest of my notes for the meeting so we don’t get too behind. See you tomorrow, sir!”

And just like that, George was standing alone in the office. _Well,_ he thought to himself as he started to head out too, _hopefully that boy has someone he’ll talk to. He could really use it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is [here](http://crispybaguette.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next chapter will be Lafayette!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in forever sorry! I promise I'm not dead!!
> 
> This chapter features excessive use of french. Translations are in the end notes, and I suggest using those instead of google since google really doesn't get french swears.

Lafayette couldn’t wait. He was finally visiting America again! He hadn’t been back since he’d graduated college, and _mon dieu,_ he missed it. The places, the food, everything! But especially his friends. Lucky for him, he wasn’t going to have to miss them for long. He was landing soon, and Alex was not only picking him up from the airport, but he was even letting Lafayette stay at his house while he was here. Oh, Lafayette couldn’t wait!

When they finally landed, Lafayette raced out of the plane – or well, he tried to. People on planes do not know how to _move,_ do they? Anyway, he rushed to get his luggage – bon sang, these bags were heavy, he should’ve packed lighter – and then he started his search for Alex. He found him, grinning widely and holding a sign that said LARGE BAGUETTE. Lafayette sighed. Well, at least it didn’t say France Fucker this time. Alex got yelled at by quite a few parents trying to cover their children’s eyes while they walked past that time.

“Monsieur Hamilton!” Lafayette dropped his suitcases a few feet away and just looked at the man for a moment. It had been years! Alex, however, hadn’t aged a day. He still put his hair in a messy ponytail, and he still wasn’t even trying to hide the bags under his eyes. The only notable difference in his appearance was the hideous green coat, which, somehow, Alex pulled off. _Leave it to him to make something like that look good,_ he thought fondly.

“Monsieur Lafayette!” Alex cut off the analysis by pulling Lafayette into a hug. Not that Lafayette minded, of course. After a few moments, Alex pulled away, going straight for one of Lafayette’s bags and lifting it easily. Zut, Lafayette forgot how strong Alex was, even though he certainly didn’t look it. “C’mon Laf, let’s get to the car.”

Oh, it was good to be back.

\---

The entire ride back was spent catching up and putain, they hadn’t even made a dent in their time spent apart. They got to the building too soon and not soon enough. God, he was tired.

Once they were inside, Lafayette immediately picked a door and flopped onto the bed inside, sighing.

“Uh Laf? That’s my bed,” Alex said with a chuckle.

“Je m’en fou,” Laf groaned. “I just want to sleep, it’s been so long.” Okay, so maybe he was whining. He was tired, alright?

“I’ve gotta sleep too, y’know.” Alex didn’t even sound irritated. If anything, he was amused at his friend’s dramatics.

Lafayette rolled onto his side and held his arms open. “Get over here then,” he said, not even opening his eyes.

“Works for me,” Alex shrugged. “Gimme a minute.” He stripped down to his shirt and boxers, and Lafayette realized he should probably toe off his shoes. At least he didn’t have to worry about jeans, since he was already wearing sweats – c’mon, who would wear jeans for an eight hour flight?

Once they were settled – under the covers this time around – it took maybe five minutes for Lafayette to fall asleep, Alex in his arms.

\---

Lafayette wasn’t sure what woke him up. The only sound was the rain on the window, and he’d never had a problem with rain before. Nevertheless, he was wide awake now.

The next thunder clap clued him in – or rather, Alex’s jump at it did. His arms instinctively tightened around his friend.

“Alexandre, mon ami, c’est d’accord. Je suis ici. Tu es en sécurité,” he murmured behind Alex, “Tu es dans les États-Unis. À New York. Il n’y a pas d’ouragan. C’est juste un petit peu de pluie.”

After a little while of holding Alex and providing reassurances, the shaking stopped. It didn’t take too long this time, which was good. He gently nudged Alex to turn around in his arms so they could face each other.

“Maintenant, comment t’appelles-tu?”

“Alexander Hamilton. Je m’appelle Alexander Hamilton.”

“Bien. Et qui suis moi?”

“Le tout?” Ah, there was a little smile. Lafayette nodded back. “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette.”

“Parfait. Un de plus. Où sommes-nous?”

“Mon appartement à New York. Est-ce que tu es fini?”

“Oui. Do you want to talk or sleep?”

“Sleep. Thanks, Laf.” And with that, Alex turned over. They both fell asleep fairly quickly after that. After all, this had been pretty routine when they roomed together in college.

Lafayette didn’t worry. He knew Alex would talk about it with someone when he needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> mon dieu: my god
> 
> bon sang: damn it
> 
> monsieur: mister
> 
> zut: dang/darn
> 
> putain: fuck (basically)
> 
> je m'en fou: I don't give a fuck
> 
> Alexandre, mon ami, c’est d’accord. Je suis ici. Tu es en sécurité: Alexander, my friend, it's okay. I'm here. You're safe
> 
> Tu es dans les États-Unis. À New York. Il n’y a pas d’ouragan. C’est juste un petit peu de pluie: You're in the US. In New York. There is no hurricane. It's just a little bit of rain.
> 
> Maintenant, comment t’appelles-tu?: Now, what's your name?
> 
> Je m'appelle: my name is
> 
> Bien. Et qui suis moi?: Good. And who am I?
> 
> Le tout?: The whole thing?
> 
> Parfait. Un de plus. Où sommes-nous?: Perfect. One more. Where are we?
> 
> Mon appartement à New York. Est-ce que tu es fini?: My apartment in New York. Are you done?
> 
> Oui: yes
> 
> I may have used too much french, whoops.
> 
> Let me know what you think, in comments or on [my tumblr](http://crispybaguette.tumblr.com)
> 
> Next chapter: everyone's favourite two southern motherfucking democratic republicans


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so it's been three months but I'm finally updating! I've been so busy with school and rehearsal, but I finally had time to write
> 
> This one probs isn't great since I wrote half of it three months ago and the other have just now, but her you go

Thomas was in another one of his moods, God help them all. James trailed along behind him, resigned to just sticking it out to make sure Thomas didn’t do any actual damage.

James wasn’t even sure why this still got to the guy. Hamilton did this stuff constantly, how was he not used to it yet? Yes, he pointed out countless flaws in Thomas’ proposal, but isn’t that a good thing too? If he knows the flaws, he knows it won’t work, and he can fix it so that it _will,_ and that’s the actual goal here. If anything, Hamilton was helping them. But, of course, that’s not how Thomas saw it.

As Thomas stomped toward Hamilton’s office, his grumbling was _almost_ drowned out by the rain, but unfortunately, James had good hearing. “Fucking Hamilton and his fucking ‘This plan has no solid financial foundation.’ His ass has no solid financial foundation!” James could already tell that this would end up with Washington sending them both home so they’ll stop disrupting everyone in a five mile radius with their shouting.

James didn’t even have time to suggest knocking on the door before Thomas had slammed it open, a timely thunderclap making it feel like some cliché movie moment. Thomas was about to start yelling but both men stopped short.

Where was Hamilton?

The man may be disorganized, but he always remembered to put a post-it note on his door when he was out of the office. And he definitely didn’t go home – they still had several hours left in the day and even then he probably wouldn’t leave right away. So where was he?

“Hamilton? Are you in here?” James started looking around, but he felt a bit silly. What, did he think Hamilton was just gonna pop out from under his desk or something? He started searching though, so he had to commit and finish.

Oddly enough, Hamilton was under the desk, but he looked like a wreck. He had his head buried in his knees and his hands clamped over his ears. James figured out what was going on pretty quickly once Hamilton flinched at the thunder.

Glancing up, he saw that Thomas was still just kinda standing there, clearly not sure what to do now. James wasn’t sure if he would be of any help, but even Thomas wouldn’t try to fight with Hamilton when he’s having a panic attack. He might be a bit of a “French shower,” as Hamilton liked to put it, but he’s not heartless.

The thunder interrupted his thoughts, snapping his attention back to Hamilton. Ignoring Thomas for the time being, he tried to figure out what to do. Hamilton hadn’t seemed to notice him yet, but how could he get his attention without scaring him?

As it turned out, he should have been more worried about getting scared himself, since he just about jumped out of his skin when Thomas nudged him to the side. Eyebrows furrowed, he studied Hamilton carefully.

“Thomas?” James asked quietly, wondering what was going on in his head.

“Shh,” Thomas replied, seeming to make up his mind, “Alex?”

The man in question started, his head shooting up. “J-Jefferson? What are you-?” The thunder stopped him from finishing the question, but James could get the gist of it.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re in the office with me and James. It’s just a little rain, it’s going to be alright.” Thomas carefully reached out to take Hamilton’s hand from where it was pulling at his hair to hold it in between Thomas’. Hamilton was visibly relaxing, and James was part relieved and part surprised. He had no idea how Thomas did that. Thomas gently pulled Hamilton toward him and – James thought for a second he was seeing things – held him in his arms.

Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton were cuddling on the office floor. Were pigs flying out in that storm?

It went on like this until about an hour after work. James settled in next to them at some point, and as the rain beat down, he could see Thomas rubbing Hamilton’s back like he was a child. When the rain finally stopped and Hamilton pulled away, Thomas let him go easily. He regained his composure so quickly that James had whiplash. He said a quick thank you as he stood up.

“No problem Hamilton.” Thomas picked up the papers that James hadn’t noticed him put down. “C’mon James,” and just like that he left, James hurrying to catch up.

Thomas said goodbye to him once they reached his office. Even as he went home, James wasn’t sure that any of that had actually happened.

 

Come the next meeting at work, James wasn’t even trying to tune out Thomas and Hamilton’s screaming match. He was too busy trying to decide whether or not any of yesterday afternoon was real. He thought it was, but with the way they were remorselessly shouting at each other, it had to be some weird fever dream, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is [here](http://crispybaguette.tumblr.com)
> 
> Next chapter will be the Schuyler sisters and who knows when that'll go up


End file.
